Chapter 9 Ninth Counseling

After my last treatment, I stopped by for gas on the way home, and when I paid, there were bags of candy on the shelf at the counter.During those days on the mountain, the pervert wouldn’t give me sweets, and I was looking forward to some daily little things every day, but as time passed, I stopped looking forward to it, because I no longer remember what I liked.I was standing next to the cash register that day, looking at the shelves, and suddenly remembered that I liked candy, and a flame of anger boiled in my heart. The lady at the counter asked: Is that all?I heard myself say: And, and scooped up bags of sweets and sours, marshmallows, wine gum, snake jelly, whatever.A group of people stood behind me, watching a lunatic who thought it was Halloween and went crazy buying candy.I can't be bothered to pay attention to their eyes.

Back in my car, I tore open bags of candies, stuffed my mouth full, and cried while eating for unknown reasons, and I didn’t want to know that I ate too much. Hole.I was not afraid, I continued to eat and ate several times more and took one bite after another, as if I was afraid that someone would jump out and stop it at any time.How I wish I could be that sugar-loving girl again, doctor. I sat at the kitchen table, surrounded by candy wrappers and empty bags, and I couldn't stop crying.My head hurts from eating too much sugar.I feel like throwing up again.The reason I cried was that the taste of the candy had changed, and it was not the same taste as I remembered.Everything tasted different than I remembered it.

The psycho never explained why he came back to Clayton Falls, or what he was doing besides spying on my so-called friends and family, but the first night he came back, he was in a good mood and walked Light and fluffy.Nothing makes a pervert happier than telling a girl: No one cares about you anymore.While dinner was being prepared, he whistled and danced around the kitchen as if he were on a cooking show. I glared at him hard and he just bowed with a smile on his face. If he could get to and from Clayton Falls in five days, it shouldn't be too far away, or too far north, unless he parked at the airport and took a plane instead.These side issues are no longer important.Eight kilometers or eight hundred kilometers away from home, the distance is an insurmountable gap.I thought of my beloved house, my relatives and friends, and the team of volunteers who stopped the search and rescue. The more I thought about it, the more I felt that a large blanket covering my whole body was covered with fatigue, and I couldn't turn over.Just go to sleep.Put all your troubles to sleep and run away.

Then something happened, and the feeling of powerlessness did not last.Two weeks after the freak came home, around mid-February, when I was almost five months pregnant, I felt the fetus move.That feeling is amazing, like I swallowed a butterfly alive.At that moment, the fetus was no longer evil, no longer belonged to him.The child is mine and I don't have to share it with anyone else. After that, I fell in love with what it was like to be pregnant.With each passing week, my stomach is getting rounder and rounder. My body is giving birth to a little life. It feels amazing.My heart is no longer a pool of stagnant water, I feel alive and kicking.Even though the perverts are obsessed with my body again, I still love being pregnant.He told me to stand in front of him and run his hands all over my stomach and chest.I was busy counting the knotholes in the ceiling during his inspection once and he said: How lucky to be able to have a baby outside of modern society, you don't know that, Anne.Man is a destructive maniac who only cares about destroying nature, love and family with war, government and greed.Here, I have created a world of innocence, a world of safety in which we can raise our children in peace.

As I listened to this passage, I recalled the drunken driver that killed my dad and sister.I recalled the doctors who prescribed tranquilizers to my mother, the real estate agents who did everything they could to gain profits, the relatives and friends who stopped searching for me, and the policemen who cocked their legs and did nothing.Blame the police, otherwise I would have been rescued by now. An idiot was talking about his own opinion, I not only listened to it, but also thought about the truth in it, I hated myself.However, if someone tells you that the sky is green, even though you know the sky is blue, the other person continues to pretend that the sky is green, repeating the same thing every day, making it sound like it is true, and eventually even you will gradually doubt whether your own head is green. It's not that there's something wrong with it, how can I see the sky as blue.

What I often wonder is, why me?He could kidnap so many girls, why did he choose a real estate agent, a professional woman?This kind of woman is not suitable to be a housewife in the mountains.I don't want this kind of encounter to happen to anyone, but I just think that if he wants to kidnap, why doesn't he focus on the object he thinks is a weak woman, why doesn't he pick a woman who is obedient and obedient after two or three strokes?But when I thought about it further, I found that he was actually very conceptual.He has already figured out my state of mind. I thought I had long since forgotten my childhood, my family’s sad events, and my inner pain, but I didn’t.If a person rolls in manure long enough, no amount of washing can get rid of the stench.Even if you buy all the brands of soap, even if you scrub until your skin peels off, one day you go outdoors and a fly lands on you, then another one comes, and then another one because the fly knows.What they do know is that beneath that freshly scrubbed skin, you're nothing more than a pile of manure, 100 percent shit.You can try your best to get clean, but you can't fool the flies.They always know the best place to land.

That winter, the pervert set up a reward system for me.If he's happy with how I'm doing, he'll give me something, like an extra slice of meat for dinner, or an extra trip to the toilet.He would allow me to put a little extra sugar in my tea if I folded my laundry perfectly. Once when he came back from downtown, he praised me for being good and rewarded me with an apple. Since I have been deprived of my rights and have very little left, I consider him a generous gift when he gives me something, even something as common as an apple.I tasted the apple with my eyes closed, imagining myself sitting under a summer tree, almost feeling the sun on my legs.

He still punishes me if I do something wrong, but it's been a long time since he hit me, and I sometimes wish he'd punched me.If I get beaten, I will feel rebellious instead.But psychological tactics are different.Mental tactics have had the greatest impact on me.As the days passed month by month, the calls of relatives and friends became softer and softer, and the faces gradually blurred.Gradually, with each passing day, I feel that the sky is greener. After my belly started to bulge, he still raped me, but with a different attitude, more like he was just playing a role now.Occasionally, he would even become very gentle and considerate, but then he would suddenly feel inappropriate and blush.

Two or three times, he'd stop altogether and lie down next to me with one hand on my stomach and ask me questions: How does it feel to be pregnant?Can you feel the baby moving?If he doesn't want to have sex, I'll still put on a dress.In bed, we usually lie down and he puts his head on my chest. One night, his head pressed against my chest, triggering the feeling of breastfeeding, and I started dreaming about the baby, singing without thinking: Be quiet, baby, don't cry.When I realized that I was singing, I quickly stopped.He leaned his head on my shoulder and looked me straight in the eyes.

My mother used to sing that song to me.Can your mother sing to you, Anne? Not in my impression. I used my brain to find a way to lure him to continue talking.I wanted to understand his thoughts, but I couldn't ask him in front of his face: Hey, how did you become a pervert? Your mother must be a very interesting person.I said.I hope I don't step on a landmine by mistake.But he said nothing.Do you want me to sing you a special song?I don't know many songs, but I will do my best.I took talent classes as a kid. not now.I want to hear about your childhood. hateful.Can telling him the unbearable past events lead him to expose his inner world?

My mother can't be called the type who sings nursery rhymes to lull children to sleep.I said. What about the talent class?Did you go there voluntarily? It was all my mother's idea. Throughout my childhood, I was learning new things, singing, piano, and of course figure skating.Daisy learned to skate when she was very young, but I didn't learn it for long.My butt was on the ice longer than it was in the air.My mother also helped me sign up for ballet lessons. I stopped thinking about dancing when I bumped into a little girl in the same class and almost broke her nose. Not even the car accident could stop my mom.My precious daughter is dead, but she is even more eager to train me to be a child prodigy, in any field.As a result, I became a destruction genius.It's amazing how many ways I've broken my instruments and worn my sequins. What talent do you want to learn? I'm interested in fine arts, I like things like sketching and painting, but unfortunately my mother won't sign me up. If she refuses, will you fail to learn?He raised his eyebrows and asked.Hearing you say that, isn't she very fair and disappointing. When we were kids, before Daisy got into a car accident, she was very playful sometimes.Every Christmas, we make big gingerbread houses, and she often plays dress-up games with us.Sometimes she would build forts in the living room with Daisy and me, then stay up late watching horror movies. Do you like horror movies? I love being with Daisy and my mom.Their sense of humor is different from mine.My mother likes to play tricks. For example, on Halloween one year, she poured a big puddle of ketchup on the floor next to my bed. I stepped on it when I got out of bed. I thought it was blood, and she and Daisy laughed for days.I still hate ketchup. You don't think it's funny, do you? I shrugged.The pervert began to show a bored expression, shifting his focus, as if trying to stand up.hateful.If I want to lure him into a heart-to-heart, I must show him my true feelings. I cried out of anger at her.My mother still likes to tell everyone she messed with me.She takes pleasure in deceiving.She even went trick-or-treating with us on Halloween before. interesting.You said that your mother likes to lie, what do you think is the reason? Who knows?But her deceit is superb.Most of her cosmetics and clothes were cheated.Every lady in the counter in and out of the town was stupefied by her. Resigned to a few bottles of imitation perfume, my mother couldn't take it anymore and had to hunt for gullible prey in the cosmetics section of a department store.Under the name of a widow in mourning, the counter lady not only helped her make a new look, but also gave her free samples. The main reason was that when someone passed by the counter, she knew how to hype the products. Her talents don't stop there.Although my mother's hands are small, her eyesight is sharp, and the movements of her small hands are also very fast.Her dressing table is full of half-used and tired colognes, potions, and lotions, all of which she picked up when the lady at the counter turned away and was not looking.Sometimes, she does buy something, but she usually returns it at an out-of-town chain.In the end, I couldn't stand it anymore, and read a few words to her, but she said that she helped the lady at the counter to achieve so many achievements, and occasionally took a bottle as a commission. As soon as my mother discovered how deceitful perfume can be, she immediately shifted her focus to clothes and sexy lingerie, and specialized in high-end boutiques.When I am a little older, I will not go shopping with her.I can assure you that she is cheating right now, and I know it without asking.She dresses better than most fashion models. Sometimes, I think she likes me better when I was a kid, I said.The pervert's eyes were like laser beams piercing into my eyes.I touched his heart. I met his eyes and said to him: Probably because I was more able to please her when I was a child, or it may be because I became assertive when I grew up and dared to talk back to her.Whatever the reason, I'm sure she was disappointed in me growing up. The pervert cleared his throat, was startled for a moment, and shook his head.What he wants to say is stuck in his throat, I just need to prod him a little.I say it in the softest tone: Did you feel the same way when you were a child? He rolled over on his back, staring at the ceiling, his head still on my arm.My mother didn't want me to grow up. When a child grows up, maybe every mother in the world will be sad. No, no, not for that reason. I thought of his eccentricity of completely shaving his entire body.I forced myself to wrap my arms around his head and put my hand on his forehead.Surprised, he flinched, then glanced at me, but didn't flinch. I said: You said that her first child died, and the pervert leaned against me, her body froze for a moment.I raised my hand and stroked his hair to let him relax, but I wasn't sure how he would react, so I slowly withdrew my hand and continued to stroke his curly hair, just pushing my leg over to let him feel warmth.Do you think it has something to do with her first child?Do you feel compelled to look up to him?Uh, I mean, do you feel like a replacement for him?His eyes dimmed, and then turned away slightly.I can't let him shut up. You asked me about Daisy before, and I don't want to answer, because I'm still in pain.She is excellent.She's my older sister, and I'm sure she finds sisters annoying sometimes, but I think she's the perfect girl.My mom felt the same way.After the car accident, I often accidentally saw her staring at me, or she would touch my hair when she walked by me. From her eyes or her movements, I knew she was thinking of Daisy. He turned to face me again.Did she say anything? No.Even if there is, I can't give an example for a while, but this kind of thing belongs to intuition, and it can be known without words.I'm pretty sure that she wished it was me that was the daughter who flew out of the windshield in the crash, but she'd be dead set on admitting it.I can't even blame her because I still had the same wish long after the accident.Daisy is the best daughter.When I was a child, I thought that God wanted her because she was good. I don't know why, probably because of the hormones, I started to cry.This is the first time I have expressed these feelings to anyone.He opened his mouth and took a breath, as if about to say something, but closed his mouth again, patted my leg, and stared at the ceiling again. What is he afraid of?How do I get him to trust me and be open and honest with me?So far, all I've dug up are a few bad debts from my past, which made me even more sad.It has been heard that some children pledge their allegiance to adults who abused them.Is that why he refuses to confess?I probably shouldn't tell you one thing casually. I said that over the years, my mother has worked hard to pull me up, and she has contributed a lot. Talking about her bad will make me feel that I am betraying her.The pervert tilted his head toward me.I guess, though, that parents are human and that mistakes are inevitable.I've read a few books on how to forgive my parents, busy calling out every cliché from my brain's memory bank as an emergency.I kept telling myself that it's okay to say this kind of thing, I can still love my mother, and I don't have to accept all her words and deeds. My mother is a wonderful woman.He paused.I am waiting.We also played drag. The plot is exciting. I was only five years old, but I still remember the day she came to see me in the foster home.The idiot she married came along, but he barely looked at me.She was wearing a white sundress, and she smelled so clean when she hugged me, not like my foster mother's fat pig smell.She told me to be a good kid and come pick me up another day.The day she actually came to pick me up, her husband was on a business trip again, so she was the only one who came.When I got home, I had never seen such a clean house and she helped me take a bath. I answered, trying not to show emotion in my tone.It must feel very comfortable. I've never had a bath like that, with candles next to it, and it smells delicious.She washed my hair and rubbed my back, so gently.She drained the dirty water, then turned on the tap again, and came in to soak together, helping me to wash more carefully.She kissed me where I was bruised, her lips were so soft, soft as velvet.She said she sucked the pain from my skin and swallowed it into her stomach.He glanced at me, and I just nodded, as if what he said was the most natural mother-child interaction in the world, and he actually believed it. She told me I could go to her bed and sleep with her because she didn't want me to be scared.I've never been skin to skin, I've never been hugged, I can feel her heartbeat.He patted his chest.She likes to touch my hair like your mother touches your head.She said my hair reminded her of her own son's hair.My hands itched in his curls, but I fought the urge to withdraw them. She can no longer have children.She said she had been waiting for a long time, hoping to find a little boy like me.On the first night, she cried.I promise that I will be a good boy.He fell silent again. You mentioned that you played drag together.Do you mean dressing up as cowboys and Indians?He took a long time to answer, and when he finally spoke, I wished he hadn't. Every night, after we take a bath.Alas, it's over.I sleep in her bunk to make her feel safe, but at night when he comes home from a business trip, we take an early shower and I help her get dressed.His tone fell flat.Wear it for him to see. You must be feeling abandoned, right?Originally, you could have her alone, but as soon as he came home, you were thrown aside. She had no choice but to, after all he was her husband.He turned his head to look at me again, and said in a firm tone: However, I am very special to her.She said I was her little man. learn. Of course she thinks you're special. She picked you, didn't she? He smiled.Just like I picked on you. Later he went to bed next to me with his head on my chest and I found myself feeling sorry for him.It's really sad.I have always felt disgusted, horrified, and hated towards him, but this is the first time I have had a different feeling for him, and it scares me to the extreme. Doctor, he kidnapped me, raped me, beat me, I should be dismissive of his pain.But when he talks about his mother I know there's more to their interaction than that I know he's got a mom who's not normal and messed him up and I can't help but feel sorry for him.What saddens me is that he was abused in his foster home and his new dad doesn't bother to talk to him at his new home.Is it because my own family is not normal?That's why I empathize with his pain?Doc, all I know is that I hate this feeling, and even if I have the slightest sympathy for that monster, I hate myself.I hate how I can tell you this. I didn't correct most people's assumptions that the gangsters must have been watching me with a gun all day long.Where can I explain it?The gangster told me some wonderful things in the world. For example, there are many monkeys on the Rock of Gibraltar. I think he has strong verbal ability and interesting content. How can I explain to these people?During pregnancy, my feet were so swollen that he would sometimes rub them for me, which I loved.When reading, he will listen with great interest and show a humorous side.When frying eggs, he would dance and talk with different accents every time he turned them over.At these times, the man who came on the day of the open house will reappear before my eyes.How can I tell anyone that he will make me laugh hehe? I have always been very proud, thinking that my willpower is strong.I've always been a girl no man can change me, and he changed me.He completely changed me.I felt that there was still a little flame inside, representing the old me, like the everlasting flame in the gas fireplace, burning faintly in the depths.But I worry that the flame will be blown out one day.Even to this day, I fear that the flames will one day go out. There are many books on the market that teach people to walk out of their own way, and the inner beliefs can be manifested on the outside.Everyone should draw a small circle on their head anytime, anywhere, and there will always be joyful thoughts in it. If you can do this, you will be able to live happily from now on.Sorry, I disagree.A person can live a happy life to his heart's content, but he can't stop the disaster that falls from the sky. And it doesn't just hit you, it hits you from the side, crushes you into mud, because you're stupid enough to believe you're going to have a good time.